Defining Moment Of Manhood
by Beautifully-Damaged
Summary: Angst Violence Child Abuse non sexual Psychological and Alcohol Abuse Dean 11, Sammy 7, John..Whiskey soaked and hell bent for leather and flesh as usual


_Enduring physical and verbal abuse was something Dean had become accustomed to.  
Many a time his father would hit him upside his head with an open-handed yet powerful blow while shouting 'You're my biggest mistake.' Seeing his father drunk was not an uncommon occurrence either..but tonight..tonight was completely different than any Dean had yet to experience and would change him forever.._

Dean was terrified. He was more frightened than the last time he ran down the same set of stairs with his infant brother cradled tightly in his arms only 7 years earlier. How the situation differed this time is Sam was in now tow alongside his brother, his small hand wrapped tightly in Dean's sweaty palm. Dean was pumped so full adrenaline it caused his heart to pound painfully within his chest; so much so he believed if it were to beat any harder it would break a rib. Seeing his father drunk was not unusual but never had he seen him this angry and hell-bent to beat the living shit out of him.

Running from the bottom step Dean headed towards a tall-backed armchair he thought would provide momentary protection for him and Sam. Crouching behind it Dean wrapped his arm around his little brother's shoulder, drawing him in close to his body. He needed to hide Sam and he hoped the flickering light from the television would not produce any shadows and give away their hiding spot. Dean wanted to remain hidden long enough until he could figure out what to do; although he already knew what must be done. He just wasn't sure if he could get Sam outside to the relative safety it provided quickly enough.

He could hear the floorboards creaking and the sound of pounding footsteps fast approaching. The booming voice of their angry father was no longer just a fearsome echo ringing in the distance. "Come on. Take it like a man Dean! You're trapped. You and I both know you won't leave this house without Sammy and he's still asleep."

John was now in the hallway; his well-worn but sturdy leather belt sheathed tightly once around his strong, weathered hand. He had no idea Dean had already awoken Sam. "Deeean.. Deeean. Goddamn it! Answer me you little shit!"

"Sam you have to get out of the house. Now." Dean whispered into his brother's ear as quietly as he could. With a squeaky voice and panicked look in his still-innocent eyes Sam replied "But why Dean, why? Dad always yells at you and I hear it so why do I godda go?" Dean sighed heavily; he knew there was not enough time to explain the impossible-to-imagine to one so young.

Knowing he only had a few seconds before they were found, Dean said "Sammy, you have to run and you have to run now! Go! Get out the house!" "Are you coming with me Dean?" Sam replied, voice full of fear. "No! Now move damn it!" But Sam wouldn't budge. Refusing to leave without Dean, Sam tucked his body in even closer and threw his arms around his brother's waist in silent, defiant refusal.

Realizing Sam was not going to listen to him, Dean needed no further encouragement to get up from their hiding spot. It was only several feet from the chair to the front door and he figured there was just enough time to get Sam out of the house before John rounded the corner into the living room. Grabbing the collar of Sam's pajamas Dean half-pushed, half-drug Sam towards the front door. Sam attempted to keep up with his brother's pace but the plastic soles of his slippers were slick and he kept tripping over his own little, awkward feet.

The speed in which Dean was trying to make Sam run proved to be too much. Sam stumbled one last time, landing on his knees right in front of the door. Dean reached under his brother's arms hauling him up to his feet the best he could. Sam may have been younger but he already weighed almost as much as Dean. Dean tried. He really did. His efforts to get Sam out the of the house would have worked if he wouldn't have been so nervous.. would have worked if he hadn't been so scared himself.. would have worked if he wasn't so frightened for Sam. Dean knew the deadbolt was locked. He could see it plainly but his attempt to maintain a white-knuckled grip on Sam's collar while opening the door proved impossible. He kept fumbling with each lock, twisting the doorknob to the left when it needed to go right, or when he would manage to get the door handle to move to its correct position he would twist the deadbolt the wrong way.

He felt it before he ever heard it.

A horrible, stinging sensation quickly began to burn his tender flesh. His thin shirt provided no protection from the pain as the first assault of the belt lashed across the full length of his back. Dean's body immediately arched forward, his face contorted and twisted into something almost unrecognizable as human. And despite his deepest desire not to scare Sam.. he screamed.

Dean could smell the stale stench of cigarettes and beer as his father inched ever closer to him. The reek of it all..the feeling of John's dry, hot breath nearing him made the hairs on his neck bristle. John didn't even sound like himself. His speech was slurred and the anger in his voice undeniable. "Oh for Christ sake Dean retain some dignity. Don't scream like a goddamn girl. Stand still and take it like a man."

As quick as he could, Dean grabbed Sam, threw him against the door and stood directly behind him. He pressed his body against Sam's and extended his arms outward into a spread-eagle position. It was Dean's attempt to shield every part of his brother's body possible. Dean was aware that by doing so he left himself fully exposed for the next strike; but he didn't care, he just had to protect Sam.

He heard it this time.

Dean quickly realized it was worse knowing it was coming than to not. That split-second fear..the anticipation of immediate pain bothered him more than the actual blow itself. John began to swing wildly. Using all his strength he brought the belt down hard across Dean's body. The third blow missed the intended target of Dean's back; instead, the offending piece of leather snaked up and over Dean's shoulder and whipped Sam in the face.

Before Sam's cries could be heard, Dean clamped his hand tightly over Sam's mouth and muffled his scream. "Shhhhhhh Sammy Shhhhhhh." The situation was desperate and Dean wasn't sure what to do. He considered getting the baseball bat out from behind the worn-out sofa; but he knew he couldn't chance leaving Sam exposed even for a few seconds.

Dean wanted to shout, scream at the top of his lungs for his Dad to stop. He wanted to tell him that he just hurt Sam but he feared how angry that would make him. Dean had begun to wish he had never awoken Sam in the first place and he realized his brother probably would have been safer still asleep in their room. But Dean feared his father this time more than any other and at the time he believed it best to just get Sam the hell out of the house.

Knowing he never should have put Sam in harm's way made him feel horrible. His father's voice kept echoing in his head, repeating what he had heard a thousand times before. _'He's your responsibility Dean. Always protect Sammy. Don't let him get hurt. That's about the only thing you're good for. Understand?'_ Dean had heard it so many times, it had been drilled so deep into his subconscious he fully believed it.

Glancing down he noticed something that would be of help. Something that could get Sam out of the house and he was angry with himself for not thinking of it earlier. The flap of the dog door was swaying to the movement of Sam's trembling knees. _The dog door! Why didn't I think of that sooner?_

Quickly Dean said to his brother "Do you trust me?" Amongst Sam's sniffling, tears and muffled voice Dean was barely able to make out his reply of "Yes." He had forgotten he still had his hand pressed against Sam's mouth. Releasing his grip he told Sam "Good. Then do exactly as I say ok? And I mean it Sammy or I'll kick your butt understand? On the count of two I want you to drop to your knees and crawl out the dog door. See it right down there? Ready?" "But Dean.." "No buts Sam! One. Two. Go!" Dean stood guarding his little brother until he witnessed the dirty soles of Sam's slippers disappear completely through the small opening.

*Whoosh! Crack!* Dean heard the sound of the belt breaking the stillness of the air.

With reflexes quicker than any child should have, he dropped to the ground and scrambled across the floor upon his hands and knees. Ignoring the white-hot burning pain on his flesh as the belt lashed across him again he paused just long enough to glance out the window and witnessed Sam running towards the large tree in the distant part of the yard. _Go Sammy.. Go.._

John turned to face his eldest son who was now standing with his back against a hutch which housed chipped and missing pieces of china, the last remnants of Mary's treasured Pink Rose dish set. Most of the pieces had been destroyed during one or another of John's fits of drunken rage since her death.

Dean's normally vibrant, butter-green eyes were eerily pale and almost entirely black. Dean stood, panting heavily, heart pounding, but he stood. Something seemed to change in Dean at that moment. It wasn't anything readily familiar to himself nor would it have been visible to anyone who didn't know him; but John noticed.

"What? Just what do think you're going to do Dean? You gonna fight back? You want to hit me? Go ahead, try it. If you think you're man enough."

Dean didn't respond; he just stood, thinking and staring at his father.

John stumbled across the room towards Dean and stood right in front of him and yelled "Boy! You answer me when I fuckin talk to you!" Dean responded with nothing other than a piercing glare. John began to laugh and said "What? You think just because you can look me in the eye that I won't give you exactly what you got comin? Huh?" And with that John raised the belt again but stopped mid-swing when Dean spoke.

"Go ahead. Hit me again. I can take it. Hell, I've been taking it for years. Getting used to you being a drunken asshole is easy but I swear to god if you ever hit Sam again.. I'll kill you myself."

John stood utterly confused. He couldn't quite comprehend what Dean just told him, so much so he wasn't even aware of Dean's death threat.. "What? What the hell are you talking about? I've never hurt Sam. Never would. You're out of your mind."

Dean just shook his head in disbelief before calmly stating "Yes, you have hurt Sam. You did it tonight as a matter of fact." "What the hell are talking about Dean? He's up in his room sleeping. How can I have hurt him?!" Although Dean's composure was relatively contained he started shouting in a deep voice "No he isn't! Sam was hiding in front of me at the front door when your belt hit him in the face!"

The color quickly drained from John's face when he thought about possibly having hurt Sam. John turned on his heels and started towards the stairs to see for himself if Sam truly wasn't in bed. "Don't bother dad. He's not there." "Where the hell is he then?!" "Safe. Now that he's away from you." " Dean, tell me where he is damn it!"

When Dean didn't answer, John angrily started towards the front door but the effects of the alcohol had reached its peak and John staggered then fell face first upon the floor. Dean stood watching his father flail about the living room floor, grabbing his head, groaning in pain and mumbling Sam's name. When John began repeatedly saying "No..no..didn't hurt Sam.. never hurt him..never..Sammy.. sorry.. Mary.. I'm so sorry." Dean couldn't stand to watch his father suffer. Knowing he was too drunk to be a threat any longer Dean knelt down next to him and began caressing John's head. John never acknowledged his son's presence and continued crying out Sam's name.

"Sam's ok. Don't worry. He's fine." Dean said while he continued stroking his father's sweat-laden hair. "But John..I'm not kidding. If you ever hurt Sam again. I swear to god I'll kill you."

That was the day little Dean Winchester truly grew up.


End file.
